


The Blue Hour

by hanwritessolo



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanwritessolo/pseuds/hanwritessolo
Summary: In this time that rests between the quiet space of night and day, you let Sam love you in the only way he knows best.
Relationships: Sam Drake/Reader, Samuel Drake/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	The Blue Hour

Sam shows up at your doorstep in a time that is neither night nor day, with the cold, summer air whistling through your porch. He musters all courage as he offers you an invitation: “Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.”

His hands shiver slightly even as he says it. He can see the remains of sleep still lingering under your eyes as you groggily stare at him, and he hopes that you do not notice how desperate he is for you to say yes, and the unmistakable fact that he is really, truly nervous. 

“Sam,” you say after a yawn that comes out as a tiny groan, “it’s four in the morning.”

“I know.”

“And you should be in bed.  _ I  _ should still be in bed.”

“Do you mean you want  _ us  _ together or—“

“Samuel.” You give him your most pointed look, but Sam smiles and he knows he’s already winning you over. At least, a little. “What’s this thing that you want to show me that it can’t wait until, I don’t know, maybe noon?”

Sam steps closer, his smile even wider. “Because my love,” he says, “this thing never happens at noon. And there’s no other person I want to do this with. So, what do you say?”

You stare at him again. He’s trying to get a read on your face, as he always does, and in his mind, all he can think of is:  _ Please say yes. _

“Fine,” you say after a breathless pause. “Give me five minutes. I’ll go and get changed.”

* * *

When Sam showed up to your doorstep moments earlier, every inch of your tired and sleepy body has been inclined to say no, but as Sam drives his secondhand Camaro along the almost empty freeway and underneath a blanket of stars, the windows rolled down, the grassy, summer breeze caressing your face, you’re glad that you have said yes.

You have no idea where he is taking you. He seems decidedly insistent to keep it a secret until you two get to your destination, so you do not bother asking him at all. You’re used to it by now, all these little surprises every now and then that he has up his sleeve that never fails to keep you on your toes. He knows how much you like it, and he knows how he’s good at it, too. He is so good at making you smile that you are convinced that he has made it his life’s purpose to make you happy. 

And you know he’s doing all of these things now to make up for all those fifteen years that he didn’t get to do so.

You have assured him that there is no longer a need for an act of penance. He insists that this is only an act of love.

And so in this hour that rests between the quiet space of night and day, you let him love you in the only way he knows how. He takes your hand and presses a kiss between your knuckles. Places it closer to his chest. He holds you as though he is still bound to lose you again. There is fear in his tenderness and so you squeeze a little tighter as if to say,  _ I won’t go anywhere. _ You let the rhythm of his heartbeat flutter in the palm of your hand. All you want to do is to keep its song, to keep it singing for you. But most of all, to just be able to keep  _ him  _ this time around would be enough.

The road twists and turns into a zigzag amongst the shadows of cliffs and forests, and you can slowly hear the distinct echo of rolling waves not far away. The car draws to a stuttering halt, and as you and Sam climb out and trod against the crunch of sand beneath your feet, you finally realize where he has taken you.

Of course. You know this place. 

“This is where we had our first date,” you tell him as you stare out at sea and the darkness that still enveloped it. “And where we used to watch the sunrise together.” The air is drenched in sea salt and dew, and the memory rolls back to fifteen years ago when Sam first brought you here armed with a picnic basket, a good bottle of wine, and a telescope, the two of you pointing out constellations and telling each other’s stories of lost civilizations and personal ambitions for the entire night until dawn. Ever since you’ve met him, you’ve known how he’s always had a way to carry the cosmos with him, to bring the dead back to life. After all, he did raise himself back from the dead. Now, he’s determined to give you the stars.

It’s been so long ago, that particular evening. And yet here, the memory of it burns in bittersweet nostalgia that you could not quite erase. 

“I was worried you’ve forgotten about that.” From behind you, Sam loops his arms around your waist, presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “Sorry if I didn’t bring a bottle of Merlot this time, though.”

You turn to him and smile. “It’s fine,” you say. “Why exactly did you bring me here, anyway?”

“Well, to watch the sunrise, like old times,” he says with a one-shouldered shrug. “And, there’s also one thing, but I…” He trails off, shoving a hand inside the pocket of his jeans and reaching for the back of his neck with the other. You watch him walk away and step closer to the shore. Over the horizon, the sky is a Monet painting slowly unraveling against the darkness, unveiling solemn pinks and purples. The gentle crash of waves against the shore is the only sound that occupies the sudden silence.

“Sam?” you say after a long, unnerving pause. You can tell he is restless, and his restlessness only makes you nervous. “What’s the matter?”

Sam turns to you, bites his lip, forces out a smile. “It’s… there’s something I gotta tell you, and I don’t know how to do this,  _ shit—“ _

“Samuel, what is it? You’re scaring me here,” you say sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I…” He runs a trembling hand through his hair, takes a deep breath and expels it with a sigh. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking. These last few weeks back with you made me realize something, and it’s...” He swallows. There is a tremor in his words, and this time he walks closer to you, takes your hand in his. “I never stopped loving you, and I don't think I ever will. And I cannot afford to lose you again. I want to spend the next fifteen years of my life and the years beyond that with  _ you _ and no one else. If you’d let me.”

You stare at him. And before you can even form the words out of your mouth, Sam gets down on one knee and pulls a ring from his pocket.

“I will totally accept if you turn me down after what I’ve put you through,” he tells you, “but I have to make sure nonetheless: will you marry me—“

“Yes,” you say quickly, nearly choking on your own tears. “Yes, absolutely, I’ll marry you.” You pull him up and as you do, he wraps you in an embrace so warm and tender and happy that he lifts you off the ground and you burst into laughter. The sound of it is music in his ears.  And as the sun slowly rises in a sky that is sugar almond pink, the warm, sweet breath of the day sighing anew, he kisses you in the slow and gentle minute that passes, and it is the sweetest kiss you’ll ever know.


End file.
